Thursday, July 27, 2006

7/27

Someday, I know that I will be writing posts about how hard it is now that Zac doesn't need me to wipe his butt or calm his fears. Someday, I will reminisce about how much I miss hearing his cries as I walk out of the room or see his cute face dissolve into a teary, oh-so-relieved smile when he sees me again. Someday, he will walk on his own, talk on his own, poop on his own, and maybe even have kids of his own.

That day is not today.

I love my son. That much should be obvious by the acres of archives that I'm starting to build on this site. No amount of love, though, can make up for the fact that I miss going pee by myself. I miss closing the door without hearing him scream like I just cut off his left hand. I miss gallivanting from home from the grocery store without strategically planning how I'm going to get the groceries in the apartment while still being attached at the hip to a one year-old. Occasionally, mommy needs two hands. Hell, occasionally mommy needs five hands, eight feet, and two heads. Maybe then I could finally get my living room vacuumed or take the load out of the washing machine. Maybe I could watch a full episode of "So You Think You Can Dance?" without wondering what song the people are dancing to.

My self-pity culminated yesterday evening when Zac and I were asked to leave our Weight Watchers meeting. How can you be asked to leave a place whose slogan is, "Come Join!"? WTF. The irony was driven even further home because the visiting instructor's 'message' for the evening was group support. She even drew the stupid flying-V on the white board and retold the lame Canadian geese metaphor. We get it. We're stronger as a team, supporting each other, achieving our weight loss goals. "Gooooo TEAM!" and all of that. I guess single Moms that can't leave their teething kids at home won't get picked for that team.

Where I am supposed to go for support? I pay the same $10 a week that every other person in that room paid to be told that I'm a success. I don't care if you have to scream over my child to make yourself heard. Welcome to my world. Do you have any idea how crazy I get after listening to him scream (in this order): at his toys, at me, at the cell phone I'm trying to have an adult conversation on, at me again, and then crumple onto the rug in a wet heap of screaming toddler? Let me tell you. It's pretty crazy. Maybe a couple of my five arms and eight legs could stay home with him while the other appendages try to lose weight.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

Make me an offer for babysitting that I can't refuse. GP

Pregnant In Texas said...

Hmmm...an offer you can't refuse...it could possibly involve some Ben & Jerry's Oatmeal Raisin Cookie Dough. Either that or a weekend where you DON'T have to babysit Zac. That might be a good compromise.

Anonymous said...

Not there yet. . . GP

dee said...

Unfortunately, two extra hands don't help if it is the two hands you are using that he wants. My Zach is so attached to me right now that even if his Dad offers to help it doesn't do any good. Too bad TX is so far away. I would totally baby-sit for you and let you have a break. Plus, I could be your WW support team. ;)

Anonymous said...

Hate to tell you this, but you did the same thing... Your grandma tells a story about trying to take a bath late at night so she would be "visited" by her kids... Did work. :)

Anonymous said...

that should be wouldn't be "visited"

Pregnant In Texas said...

Yeah, but my Grandma didn't have a blog where she could complain about it to anyone that would read it!

Big difference.

OH - and the offer to babysit has gone up to Oatmeal Raisin Cookie Dough icecream, one weekend WITHOUT Zac, and I won't ask you for help fixing my car window OR mirror HA! That's the best I can do, though.

Anonymous said...

The last few Anonymous post are not me. - GP